


Just Enough, Maybe

by BadWolf303 (orphan_account)



Series: Nobody said it was easy. [3]
Category: NCIS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 22:27:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6169000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/BadWolf303
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"'You’re enough,' she said, and repeated it: 'You’re enough.' He wishes he believed her." Kibbs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Enough, Maybe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anotherthief](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherthief/gifts), [flootzavut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flootzavut/gifts).



Last week, he found her in his attic with a box of Kelly’s old things in her lap.

She had tears streaming down her face, and when she saw him standing there, she paled whiter than a sheet, and more terrified looking than he’s ever seen her. “I was trying to find the extra space heater, and I kicked the box open, and then I just… I didn’t mean to, but I couldn’t…”

It was then that he realized she was expecting him to yell at her, or at least shut down. Maybe push her away and retreat. She didn’t, or maybe couldn’t, contain the audible gasp when he sat down next to her on the dusty wooden floor, taking the box from her hands and shifting it in front of him. He paused, then, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He told himself he would count to ten and then look, really look, into the box.

He counted to ten, but opened his eyes to look at Kate instead. Her face, bright and open with everything else implied written clearly in her eyes and the tears for his daughter (and maybe even more for himself) streaming down her cheeks. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her tightly against him. She rested her head on his shoulder, and they faced the box together.

They went through the box of Kelly’s favorite toys, his and Shannon’s favorite photos. He told Kate all about his precious little girl. Everything he could before he couldn’t.

He didn’t let himself get to a point of breaking down. The moment his voice started to crack too much, tremble too roughly, he stopped. “I don’t think I could ever… It would be too hard to have another…”

She knew what he was saying even if he couldn’t say it. She gently pushed the box away, taking its place in his lap as she cupped his face and kissed him. Her lips were salty with her tears. “You’re enough,” she said, and repeated it: “You’re enough.”

He wishes he believed her.

Truth is, he doesn’t feel like enough. Not for Kate Todd, the woman he frequently leaves alone in his bed when he needs to be left alone in his basement. Not for the woman who still dreams of Ari, who he failed to protect from that damn man – damn _terrorist_ – who still suffers from the PTSD of all that.

Not that Kate would ever fully admit that. Ducky has tried, because of Gibbs’ outright begging, but Kate won’t budge. _“I was a Secret Service Agent on Presidential detail. I am still a Federal Agent who has seen and been through plenty of awful things. Ari won’t break me. I won’t let him.”_

Gibbs often wonders if her insistence of being okay, of her refusal to admit to even a modicum of weakness, is all his doing. On nights like tonight, he’s almost certain it is.

It was a bad week, a bad case, and today had culminated in a bad ending. It served as a reminder to his entire team that sometimes you can win and still lose. That solving a case doesn’t always mean coming to a happy ending, and lucky result. That they usually get cases because somebody dies, and sometimes before the case is over, more people can lose their lives.

It is a brutal reminder of how cruel human nature can be; how to get ahead in life sometimes people are willing to harm others, harm _teenagers_ , without so much remorse. It is a brutal reminder that people love sons and _daughters_ and even if the bastard who does it is put away for life, it doesn’t change what happened.

Gibbs takes it personally, always does. This case he noticed Kate took it differently, too. He wondered if she thought about _him_ as she watched the Petty Officer learn the news of his child’s death. He wondered if she took it more personally, too, now that she knows better than anyone what the Petty Officer’s life will become.

He wonders if she fell asleep on his scrappy looking chair in the basement to be closer to him for his benefit or for her own. She’s been fast asleep for over an hour now, though her eye twitches each time he sands against the rib of the boat, a subconscious reaction that made him smile when he noticed it.

She’s wrapped in a blanket he _knows_ didn’t used to be in his house, though he’s not surprised to see it. The more time she spends with him (he really should consider telling her she doesn’t need to resign the lease on her apartment next month – he just hasn’t found the nerve to do so yet) the more little changes keep popping up. He has _throw pillows_ now, for christssake. Lotions in his bathroom with smells that linger throughout the whole goddamn house. Sugar in his cabinets and (blasphemous) creamer in his fridge.

The biggest change, though, is the agreement he has with her, that he implored her to allow him to break tonight. He is willing to lock his damn door every night she stays with him, both to make her feel more at ease and, well, to help him keep her safe. But he used to leave that door unlocked for a reason, and while he spoke to Tony and knows that he and McGee went out to a bar, while he knows Abby is surrounded by her unique group of friends at some party, while Ducky insisted that he will do just fine with a cup of tea and his bed thank you very much, Gibbs takes his devotion to his team quite seriously.

He doesn’t tell them this out loud, but they know with absolute certainty he is there for them if they need him. That if they cannot bear to be alone, that if they can’t leave work behind and live their lives without feeling like drowning, his home is there to feel safe in.

So, sure, most nights he’ll lock the door for Kate. But tonight, with her blessing and complete understanding, he left it open for Ziva.

Ziva, who arrived after Kate fell asleep and is asleep herself now up on his living room couch. He expected her appearance, wasn’t surprised when she ducked her head through the door, looking both haunted by the weeks events and by her past history with his basement. Her eyes immediately found Kate, tucked in and lightly snoring in his chair. If he wanted, he’s sure he could have explained away Kate’s presence as easy as Ziva’s. But Ziva raised an eyebrow, and Gibbs didn’t bother. Ziva knew, they all probably knew, and Gibbs was certain he didn’t much care anymore.

Kate is a permanent fixture in his life, if he can help it. They would all know and get used to it soon enough.

Gibbs’ phone buzzes with a message from Tony checking in. Both he and McGee are in for the evening, both doing okay. Gibbs didn’t ask for the report, but is grateful for it. With Ziva now on his couch, his entire team is accounted for. And now that he’s worked on his boat enough for both his hands to ache, and Kate looks more or less like a pretzel that would be groaning with soreness in the morning if he left her there much longer, he knows it is time to lock the door and head to bed.

He lied earlier. The biggest change that Kate brought into his life is the ability to sometimes sleep fully through the night with her in his arms in his bed.

He leans next to her, tucking his favorite piece of hair from her face behind her ear. “Kate,” he whispers, pressing his lips against her forehead. “Katie, wake up. Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable, yeah?”

She makes a really unlady like noise in response that he loves anyway, and he chuckles softly as she stretches like a cat and makes a face at the loud crack her neck makes. “Do I need to carry you, Agent Todd?” He should be surprised at the sound of laughter in his voice, considering their day, their week, but his happiness with her hasn’t surprised him for a while.

“Don’t you dare,” she responds, ever the bad ass who once told him she grew her own balls. “Just give me a minute.”

He gives her three minutes before he holds out a hand and tugs her up, the throw blanket still wrapped around her like a burrito. She crashes against his chest, brushes her face in the fabric of his sweatshirt. He takes a moment to enjoy it before putting his hand on the small of her back and leading her up the stairs.

It doesn’t occur to him until she stops short at the top that he should have warned her of the presence in their ( _their_? Where did that thought come from?) living room. He knows too well of her feelings about Ziva. Knows that she tries to push the irrational hurt and fear aside to work with the other woman, to try and trust her and care about her the way the rest of the team does.

(Gibbs still won’t send them out in the field alone together. Doesn’t trust either of them to that, not yet. One day they’ll make an unstoppable force, he’s certain of it. Kate and Ziva could be a partnership to be reckoned with. He’ll see them to their potential, both individually and with each other. But for now, he’ll keep them safe.)

“Kate…” He’s not sure what to say. Kate’s feelings (Kate’s not-admitted PTSD) are raw and deep when it comes to Ziva, because of all of the things she tries to keep buried deep about Ari.

He’s about to gently grasp her shoulders, to pull her close and bring her to his bed, but she steps away too quickly out of reach. He doesn’t react quick enough, doesn’t even know _how_ to react, as he watches her walk with a purpose _towards_ the living room, towards the couch, towards Ziva.

He really doesn’t want to deal with drama tonight of all nights.

Though he should _really_ have more faith in his Kate.

He watches in awe as she pulls the throw blanket off her own shoulders to place on top of Ziva. Ziva’s wild curls cover her face, and Kate brushes them back out of the way. Part of Gibbs thinks that Ziva is going to jump up any second, ninja senses firing to punch Kate in the face. He’s both relieved and concerned when she doesn’t. He doesn’t like when his team is worn this ragged, left this exhausted.

Kate watches her for a moment, worry etched in her eyes as clearly as Shannon’s when Kelly would be hurt or afraid or just vulnerable. It’s moments like these when he forgets how to breathe.

“Kate.” Her name comes from his lips on a painful exhale.

She crosses the room and holds out her hand. He takes it, and he’s not sure which one of their hands is the one trembling. “Make sure you make enough coffee for all of us in the morning,” Kate says, her voice barely above a whisper.

Everything considered, it’s one of the simplest, most domestic things she could have said. And it nearly knocks him over.

“Gibbs?” She slides her hands up his arms, looking up at him, _searching_ him, with her big expressive brown eyes.

Gibbs rarely allows thoughts to be wasted on “what ifs”. They’d consume him otherwise. Eat him alive. He’d never be able to move forward, to open his eyes each day, if he constantly thought about the “what ifs” of the past. He knows there is no changing what happened with Kelly, with Shannon. He knows that Kate accepts their place in his heart, and she would never try and shove them away.

Though it’s not Kelly and Shannon that he “what ifs” about these days. It’s the “what ifs” of how badly he messed up everything after. Of how hard he found living. Of three red-headed wives that came later. Of a brunette woman who wiggled her way into his heart, into his soul, in a way he never considered could happen to him again.

He can’t stomach the thought of a _fifth_ marriage. But he cannot stomach the thought of a future without Kate. 

She may be the one who tries so hard not to let him know she might be broken. She’s the one who tries _so damn hard_ to push away the bad feelings that haunt her when it comes to Ziva, to Ari, to the kind eyes they shared. She may be the one who not even five months ago nearly died and came out of the ordeal with just some busted ribs and a newfound relationship with her boss. She might be the one suffering from PTSD, might be the one terrified of letting him know she might not ever feel strong.

But he’s the one who’s broken. He’s the weak one, and she’s been strong enough for the both of them.

He should tell her that. He doesn’t think implying it is enough anymore.

Not for Kate.

Not for him.

“I love you, Kate,” he says, and her mouth falls open. He still doesn’t think it’s enough, that he’s enough. But it’s something closer.

“Can I move in?” she asks by way of response, and he laughs, because _of course_ she found the words that he’s wanted to say but hasn’t been able to. Of course she picks up his slack.

He tames his eager smile into a smirk, juts his chin in the direction of Ziva, covered in Kate’s blanket and surrounded by Kate’s decorative pillows. “Kinda feels like you already did.”

“Is that a yes?”

It’s time to move past implied and into their future.   
  
“Only if you never leave.”

**Author's Note:**

> I literally never intended to write more than one of these, and here we are at three. I wanted to give Gibbs a POV in this little saga, wanted to keep developing this growing relationship. There will be at least one more (though honestly, probably two more????? I don't know how this happened) because I still want to explore Kate and Ziva and their working relationship together. But for now, here you all go. I've spent years not thinking about Kate and Gibbs and suddenly I'm consumed by them. Thus is life.


End file.
